'Cause now I'm so much steeped in sin that I'm not fit for Hell.
Oh, horrors! horrors! hear the groans of tortured victims there,
Some young, and many are quite old, I know it by their hair!
Poor, poor, poor wretches, see them there, all bleeding and in chains;
I know they realize their fate, because they all have brains.
Is this the horrid, horrid place my mother taught was Hell?
Oh, see those brutal fiery fiends, they call them "Imps" you know,
And many an one has feared them here, because of sin he'd sown.
Just see the demons of the deep! Just hear their hellish tones!
Then floating back on brimstone air comes mocking, mocking groans.